Chill
by ALEO
Summary: Scouting a potential offence location alone Special Agent Don Eppes finds himself in an unexpected situation. Three chapters, COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Numb3rs: Chill**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

_**A/N:**__ Written for Clue Challenge #8, February 2010, at hurt_don on LiveJournal. Prompts: __**Who?**__ – Don. __**What? **__– Ice. __**Where?**__ – Outdoors._

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**CHAPTER ONE**

"Well, lookie what we have here!"

At the first word Special Agent Don Eppes was up and on his feet, spinning towards the voice. His hand flew to his side and the weapon holstered there. By the time the final word had been spoken he was frozen in place, Glock partially drawn but it was already too late. The two men facing the agent had their weapons already in hand and aimed firmly his way. He would be riddled with bullets before he could bring his Glock to bear so it remained where it was. Despite his apparently hopeless situation he sized the men up, calculating his options. There would be another way out, he just had to find it.

The speaker was a big man, taller than Colby and more solidly muscled. Even without the weapon he was holding confidently taking him on would be a difficult proposition, he looked like he could handle himself hand to hand. The tattoos on his lower forearms had the look of jailhouse artistry about them and the agent recognised some standard symbols. The man was indeed accomplished at fighting dirty. With the slightly longish dark hair, even darker eyes and casual clothing the man managed a menacing air, all aided somewhat by the 9mm semi-automatic pistol that was almost dwarfed in his large hand. His companion had a similarly hard look about him but was of more average build and height. The second man Don could probably take on but the both of them together was another story. Add in the weapons and the fact they already had the drop on him and things weren't looking good.

Assessment concluded Don could only see one path for his next move. Despite being reasonably sure what the reaction was going to be he said it anyway.

"FBI."

A slight smile crossed the face of the first man. As Don had expected he was not impressed, his tone leaving no doubt. "Feeb, huh? How about you toss the piece?"

"I don't think so." Don retorted. He tried a bluff. "You need to think about your position."

"Yeah, right. You're all alone, Feeb."

_Damn._ "Really?"

The man shrugged, satisfied with his assessment of the situation. The man didn't even bother looking around for the imaginary sharp shooters and waiting agents that Don was alluding to. "If there were any more feebs around here they'd be all over us by now. You're alone." The man shifted slightly closer and brought his gun up in emphasis, aiming now at the agent's head. "Much as this has been fun, toss it or I'll shoot you dead."

Bluff failed there was nothing for it but to obey the order. It seemed that perhaps he wouldn't be simply shot out of hand so he maybe had a chance. The men may have acted liked they didn't care he was a federal agent but it may yet serve to protect him. The fact that he was still alive at this juncture suggested he was right, if he didn't give them reason to remedy that.

Finding himself in this position was all his own fault. Heading home from the office he'd decided to drive by one of the hot spots Charlie had given them late that afternoon. The next day had been slated for scouting the five truck depots but he was conscious of time slipping away from them on this one, the shipment already in and about to be loaded and driven out of LA to vanish somewhere in the rest of the States, or perhaps even shipped overseas. Coming into it this late made it all the more probable that was going to be the result despite their efforts to pin down the location. Leaving the office he'd known he wouldn't be able to sleep very well if he didn't get the jump and scout at least one site.

Picking one that wasn't too far from his path home he'd pulled up against a side fence only to see movement where he wouldn't have expected it given the hour and the size of the depot. It wasn't quite enough to call it suspicious but it still warranted a closer look. He called in his location to Control and climbed out of the Suburban taking a moment to switch his cell to vibrate. After walking only a short distance along the fence line he'd found what he was looking for, a hole cut through the mesh, a standard feature in any fence.

Crawling through he'd headed to the side of a storage shed where he could get a better idea of the lay of the land without exposing himself. Unsurprisingly this truck depot was fairly standard. A loading dock backed onto a smaller than average warehouse with a couple of trucks reversed up against it ready for loading. More trucks, all bearing the name of the delivery company that ran the depot, were parked in the yard waiting their turns. A perfectly normal depot.

The only glaring issue was that for a depot that didn't run 24/7 there was a lot of activity for eleven o'clock at night. A relatively small truck, plain white and unmarked with any delivery company branding, was backed up close to an insulated storage area. A man was struggling with a manual pallet loader, tugging at the handle to move the full pallet from the shed across to the back of the truck. A second man was busy at work unloading a pallet already situated at the rear of the truck, somewhat gently loading individual bags of what appeared to be crushed ice into the back of the vehicle Don could now see was also refrigerated. A short distance away a dark car was parked in some shadows.

That set him back as it wasn't quite what he was expecting. The intel they were working from had suggested that a load of 'ice' was being moved and had seemed solid. It was just that he was working on the street slang meaning of the word, not the dictionary definition. About to leave in disgust at all the resources they'd already wasted on this matter he'd suddenly paused and reconsidered. Loading frozen water was hardly illegal but the way in which this operation was being conducted seemed somewhat odd. Who could urgently need ice at this hour of night from a depot that would not normally be staffed? And why were the men struggling to move the bags manually, not using the motorised forklift he could see parked mere yards away? The obvious answer that came to mind was the men felt the need to conduct this late night operation below the radar. This conclusion was supported by the fact that there weren't even any lights on other than the ones mounted on high poles around the depot, certainly not the large floodlights that hung from the buildings overlooking the loading area.

Deciding things were off he had worked his way closer trying to get a handle on what was going on, perhaps even catch a snippet of conversation that could explain the situation. It had been his undoing, leaving him in the difficulties he now found himself.

Moving slowly he pulled the Glock the rest of the way from his holster and carefully tossed it in a well practiced move. The weapon landed precisely where he'd intended; close enough that he would be able to lunge for it whilst far enough away that the average goon would think it was out of play. Seeing the sneer on the first man's face however he realised that this goon at least wasn't average.

"You throw like a chick." The man moved three steps to his left before kicking the Glock with a sweep of his foot sending it spinning off into the darkness. He returned to his previous spot in front of the agent. "Anything else you do like a girl?"

Don gave that comment the contempt it deserved as he waited to see how far the men were going to take this.

The man gave him a shrewd once over, eyes raking over every inch of the agent's body. A search without the hands-on. He looked back up with a bemused smirk on his face. "You're not very good at this are you?"

Not expecting that comment his "Huh?" was out before he could stop it.

"Barely even skulking around and you've lost your phone." The voice was contemptuous as the man waved at the empty holder on the agent's belt. "Careless."

Don's hand automatically went to the familiar place, encountering the empty holder that the man had noted. He went with the flow, grabbing at the empty holder as if the cell would materialise and allowed a chagrined expression to cross his face. Having been given a slight advantage he would take it.

The man laughed at the agent's apparent discomfort before leaning forward. Grabbing a handful of the other's shirt in his left hand he dragged him forward for a close menacing look before pushing him in the direction of the activity at the back of the truck.

"Move."

Stumbling slightly Don regained his balance, glancing back to see the two men following. At his turn the first man lifted his weapon slightly in emphasis for the agent to continue on ahead of them. The glance had shown what he was starting to expect. The men were above the average cut of goons, their positioning behind him only illustrated that further. Both were far enough back that a spin and a lunge would not bring him into contact with either of them but they were close enough that any attempt to flee could be quickly countered, if for some reason they decided not to simply shoot him. For now he had no other avenue other than to walk ahead of them to the truck.

The man with the manual pallet loader suddenly stopped as he saw the intruder being marched towards them. He tapped his fellow worker on the shoulder and both turned to stare as Don stopped.

"Who's this?" The man at the pallet loader demanded.

"A feeb."

"What?" He looked wildly around, probably searching for the back-up that Don wished he had in position. The gun that had been shoved into his waistband was in his hand and tracking around the shadows.

"Now what?" The other asked, already lowering his quickly drawn weapon as he failed to see any signs of a raid.

Listening to the exchange the agent came to the conclusion that the man that had first bailed him up was actually the one in charge. Even though not much had been said it was fast becoming clear that they were not going to use names. A simple number system would have to do. The leader was One, his friend Two and the last pair were Three and Four.

"Now we keep doing what we were doing." One stated. "Nothing's changed except now we got an extra hand to help load."

Don's first reaction to that was that they could go to hell; he wasn't going to help them with squat. His next was to remind himself that being useful, even if in the short term would be to his best interest. It might also give him a chance to figure out just exactly what it was they were up to, assuming he could do anything with the information when he got it. A hand on his shoulder pushed him towards the partly unloaded pallet.

"Get to work. Don't drop any."

His only sign of rebellion to the order was his jaw muscles jumping as he ground his teeth together. Being ordered around by offenders was not something he was happy with, even if he'd decided to do as he was told. After a moment of stubborn hesitation he bent and carefully hefted the first bag. The cold against his unprotected fingers felt almost like a burn and he found himself glancing at the leather gloves worn by Three. That man didn't note the almost wistful look as he was too busy clambering up into the truck, ready to take the bag from their new assistant.

For a moment he'd thought it quite possible that he'd be forced to do all the work now that they effectively had him for slave labour. However, giving it some more thought as he handed the first bag up, it made sense. They were doing things the hard way, manually, but were on a tight schedule. That meant speed was of the essence and the original two men were going to continue their task along with him, three sets of hands were better than two. The man he'd dubbed 'One' maintained a watchful distance, his weapon constantly tracking the agent's movements, a fact Don noted very quickly. Two disappeared into the darkness, perhaps having netted one spy he thought to find another.

As he worked, moving the next bag and the next he eyed the two workers. Both were armed, their pistols tucked into the front of their belts. All he had to do was take on one of the men and he had ready access to a weapon, the problem was that they by the same token also had ready access to weapons. With One's gaze and aim locked on him at all times, and whichever of the two men he didn't target able to react, any move he might make was a good shot at getting himself killed.

The other problem was that the longer he waited to do something, anything, the less he was going to be able to act. Already losing feeling in his fingertips he knew it wouldn't be long before his hands became clumsy and next to useless for fine motor control such as that needed to steal and use a gun. Unfortunately the constant observation from One meant doing anything other than shift bags of ice was likely to be very bad for his continued good health.

Four was now helping with the last pallet load of ice, as with Three that man also was wearing leather gloves unlike their prisoner. Don's hands were now almost completely numb, his ability to feel reduced to pressure and a stinging pain that was gradually increasing in severity. Fine motor control was out and he was constantly shoving his hands under his armpits when turning back from the truck to the almost empty pallet in an ineffective attempt to warm them back up. The inevitable finally happened, a bag he'd picked up slipped from his clumsy grip to fall and burst open on the concrete. The reaction was immediate and to his thoughts rather excessive.

All movement stopped. Then One was on him, shoving his gun hard up under the agent's chin as the other two men crowded in, unfriendly expressions on their faces and hands on weapons.

"Pick up every piece." One hissed. "You miss any, I won't. Got it?"

Don didn't get the opportunity to respond or acknowledge the order before he was shoved violently forward and down. Landing hard, his hands next to useless to break his fall he got himself back up to his knees. He glanced up to see that three weapons were now pointed at him. Dragging the burst bag over to him he started scraping up the pieces of ice and shovelling them in though the hole. Sitting on the concrete still slightly warm after the day's bright sunlight the chunks of ice were already stating to melt making them slippery and his task all the more difficult. He persisted and finally had all the bigger pieces back together. The last few smaller chips had pretty much melted completely so he ignored them. Sitting back he started to shift as if to rise but froze as a gun pressed firmly against the back of his head.

"Every piece, Feeb." One reminded. He then added an order to his companions. "Get those last bags loaded, we need to get moving."

As the other two men returned to shift the last few bags Don bent back down and dragged his numb fingers through each damp spot, smearing the water around each time showing that there wasn't actually anything more to pick up. Until his fingers suddenly encountered a hard chip, a piece of ice that unaccountably hadn't melted like the rest. Surprised he hesitated a moment before, using both hands, he managed to scoop the small chip up. He brought it up and looked at it as best he could in the available light forgetting for the moment everything else. It was small and hard but it wasn't ice. At least not in the technical, frozen water, sense. As he looked at the small rainbows and bright flashes reflected off in the light it all became clear.

The men were smuggling cut diamonds. Frozen in ice they were undetectable. The one he held may have been small in the scheme of things as a piece of frozen water but as diamonds went it was quite big. He glanced back at the truck as if he needed the reminder of how many bags of ice it contained. If each bag had just one diamond in it the load was extremely valuable.

"You get it now, Feeb?"

He got it alright. Given the amount of ice and the probable haul of the valuable stones the men would have little compunction against murdering an interfering agent when any possible reason for letting him live was gone. Now more than ever he needed to work on an escape.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Numb3rs: Chill**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

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**CHAPTER TWO**

On his knees with a diamond in his hands and a gun at his head Don didn't exactly have the opportunity to make that escape. All he could do for now was respond to the unspoken demand of a waiting empty hand and hand the diamond up. It was without much surprise that he noted the way that One glanced around to see if his men were watching before slipping the stone into his pocket. Somehow Don knew the stone wouldn't find its way into the rest of the haul, the others unaware that the agent had even stumbled on their true operation. Eyes narrowed at the man's covert actions he received a close up view of the barrel of One's weapon in response. The message was received loud and clear, he was to keep his observations to himself.

"Get back to work."

Don managed a grip on the bag and rose to his feet, careful not to spill any of the ice from the damaged bag in the process. He turned and in a few short steps was at the back of the truck, handing the bag up. It was the last one. His situation just became that much more desperate, his knowledge of One's theft perhaps his only weapon, assuming they even believed him or that One would let him live long enough to get the words out. Three and Four crowded in, hands back on their weapons as they waited for One to give the next order.

One wasn't in any obvious rush, pulling out his cell and hitting a speed dial instead. "Get back here." He snapped before putting the cell away. He finally turned his attention to the agent. "And you, get in."

Don couldn't help the glance up into the back of the freezer truck before looking back at One. The cold air spilling against his back was already making him shiver. Surely he couldn't expect…

As it had earlier One's matter of fact voice left no doubt that he was prepared to do whatever he felt he needed to. "You can unload at the other end before we kill you or we shoot you now. Up to you."

"This is not going to end well." Don warned.

"Not for you it isn't." One agreed.

"The only good fed is a dead fed." Four quipped.

Ignoring the amused comment the agent continued. "Take the truck and drive away, it's not like I can stop you. Killing me or taking me with you will bring down more heat than you need right now."

A less than pleasant grin crossed the man's face as he stepped a pace closer. His voice dropped and the tone was downright dangerous. "Right now I want you to get into the truck."

Don sighed and nodded. Even with the death sentence hanging over his head, getting into the truck extended his life that little longer. A fact not lost on One, hence the explanation of when the agent was to die if he cooperated. For them it saved a mess at the depot that could more quickly lead the authorities to understand that something had gone down overnight that warranted investigation. This way, no mess and they could kill him once they'd rung some more work from him and then dispose of his body in a place of their choosing. It all seemed to be in their favour for him to get into the truck but he would take the slight hope One was offering and use whatever chance he got. There was still one trick up his sleeve. He turned and with a degree of difficulty clambered up, backing away into the freezing depths as One gestured with his gun. Three climbed up far enough to grab at the hanging strap before jumping back down and pulling the roller door down with him.

It was pitch black in the back of the truck but that was the least of the agent's worries as he heard the latches being engaged. Dressed for the warm Californian night he shivered violently as the cold air being enthusiastically pumped in by the compressor blew across his unprotected skin. Already chilled from the cold against his hands his t-shirt and light jeans were going to be little help keeping him warm in what was soon to be sub-freezing temperatures. There was no time to waste. It took a couple of attempts but he finally got his still numb hand into his pocket where he'd earlier put his phone so he could feel it vibrate and dragged it back out. That decision had prevented One finding and confiscating his phone when he'd been taken, the empty holder on the belt sending the man to his erroneous conclusion.

Through the insulated walls of the truck he heard the larger vehicle's engine start and then another that he assumed had to be the car he'd spotted. The truck's cab was too small to carry the four men so that made sense. Getting himself back on task he was about to open his phone when the truck suddenly lurched forward, the movement causing him to slip and fall, the phone flying from his grasp. As the truck picked up pace he remained on his hands and knees, desperately trying to recover the cell from amongst the bags of ice. Fortune was favouring him as he suddenly heard a buzzing noise. His phone was ringing and had landed on a patch of floor amplifying the sound of the vibrator. Homing in he soon had it back in his hands and open, the wash of light welcoming in the dark. Getting it up to his ear he heard the voice of Alexis in Control.

"_Welfare check, Agent Eppes."_ She explained through some static. Standard protocol dictated that she check on him after a certain length of time if he didn't call in.

"I need assistance." Don started. Her timely call had saved him the trouble of trying to dial. "I'm being held by four armed men in a refrigerated truck."

Despite being alarmed, Alexis was all business._ "You still at your last?"_

"Not for long, I'm being driven away now. Track my cell." The insulated walls of the truck seemed to be blocking his cell and he hoped there was enough signal to track the GPS, it wasn't as if he could give directions to his location as it changed.

"_Received. Signal strength is low but working on it. Alerting LAPD dispatch for units in the vicinity of your last. Description of the vehicle?"_

As he worked his way though the quick description he found it getting harder to speak, already the cold was making his teeth start to chatter.

"_Agent, have you been injured?"_ Alexis asked in concern now that the urgent stuff was being dealt with.

"N-no. Freezing." He'd already explained the type of truck so he knew she'd understand. "Hurry."

"_Stay on the line."_

Don appreciated the offer but, "No. I n-need to save the b-battery." The GPS was his lifeline, useless if he drained the battery powering it.

"_Hang in there." _Alexis responded. _ "We're coming."_

He ended the call and held the phone up while it was still illuminated, using the pale light to find himself a place against the wall of the truck where he could sit and wait. As the light faded he got the phone back into his pocket to both protect it from the cold and to conceal it once again and then sat, wedging himself against the wall and the roller door. After pushing away the closest bags of ice he pulled himself up into a ball, making himself as small as possible in order to reduce his heat loss as he leaned against the un-insulated roller door, the warmest surface in the truck. Tucking in his head he tried to make the most of the warmth in his expelled breath to warm his already frozen hands that he'd balled up against his chest. Hoping that either he would be quickly rescued by the promised help or that the ride would end soon he set himself to wait. It wasn't like he had anything else to do.

Constant checks of the faintly luminous dial of his watch only served to illustrate how much time was crawling by as he shivered. It seemed their intel was right on this point as well, the truck was leaving LA. After a while he found himself trying to compare how he felt now with previous times he'd thought he was cold. Nothing even came close, his shivering becoming even more violent and he was unable to stop it. Knowing that for a bad sign he tried to tighten himself up into an even smaller ball even as the cold against his stinging skin started to feel warm. He knew it for a dangerous illusion and as some more time slipped by he felt his body start to relax, his twitching muscles not able to hold their tensed pose. Unable to prevent it he slid to one side until he lay curled on the floor. Losing track of time his thoughts wandered and he drifted.

The truck made a sudden turn flinging him uncomfortably against the wall. Managing an irritated thought was as much of a response as he could muster as the truck made another violent manoeuvre. Again he responded with irritation as the abrupt changes in direction continued. Finally his cold addled thoughts shifted into gear and he was able to puzzle it out. The close wailing sound of a police siren helped. The truck was being pursued, he'd been found. There was another dangerously sharp turn that had the floor tilting alarmingly upwards and flung him across to the opposite side as the truck almost rolled. There was the sound of a collision and the siren abruptly stopped. Somehow the truck returned to all of its wheels before coming to a sharp halt.

With a lot of effort Don managed to peel himself off the floor and drag himself back up until he was leaning against the wall. He leaned his ear against the roller door in an attempt to hear what was happening outside the truck, wondering absently why his ears were burning so much.

There was the sound of doors slamming that he identified as from the truck before he heard a voice.

"Check on him." The man ordered. "I'll check the cop."

He heard a screech of tortured metal and could only guess at what was going on. Possibly the dark car that had contained at least one of his captors had collided with the pursuing black & white or sheriff's car depending how far out they'd gone. That there'd been no gunfire suggested that the officer had been injured in the collision and was unable to attempt an arrest. It could also suggest that the officer was dead. There was another sound of metal on metal and this time a second voice helped to explain what was happening.

"Come on, get out. We gotta go before they catch up."

Don figured that they were pulling their man from his wrecked car, the sound of metal screeching was the sound of them pulling a door open. There was a loud grunt and then a question.

"What about the cop?" It was One.

"Out cold." The voice he finally recognised as Three stated. "Want me to finish him?"

"No." One countermanded. "They'll be too busy looking after him to come after us."

Despite the fact that rescue was no closer Don sighed in relief. The officer wasn't dead and by the sounds of it they weren't going to kill the helpless man either.

"If we're not here." One then added. In the background Don could make out the sounds of more sirens slowly getting louder as they closed in. "Help me up."

From that he deduced it had been One in the car and that he'd not escaped the collision uninjured. It was another small piece of good news. The sudden loud bang against the roller door moments later he wasn't expecting. Startled his clumsy, half-frozen muscles pushed him away to sprawl on the floor.

"You still alive in there, Feeb?"

"Give it up." He called out. Or at least that's what he tried to say, even to his own ears it sounded unintelligible and the volume was non-existent. Moving with all the skill and coordination of a drunk Don got himself back up. Flinging out a leaden arm he made contact with the roller.

"I guess you are. Stay warm."

At that Don managed a harder hit at the roller in frustration, the surge of anger giving him a needed boost. A short snatch of laughter was the response. The truck rocked slightly as the men squeezed themselves up into the cab designed for three in a pinch and seconds later they started to move.

The anger evaporated all too quickly as he lay back feeling now a surge of defeat. He was in bad shape, trapped and the rescue that had seemed possible a short time before was gone. His thoughts were slowing down again but his wits hadn't totally left him as he remembered the sirens he'd heard in the background closing in. They'd found him once, they would find him again, it was just a matter of time. Without the trailing car the men now had no way of stopping a second pursuit. The situation that he'd moments ago thought was deteriorating was actually improving. Now he just had to wait it out. That thought got him moving.

While his mind was still turning over he recognised he was in the throes of hypothermia and lying stretched out flat on the floor was the very worst thing he could do even if he no longer actually felt the cold. Absently he noted that it wasn't so much that he didn't feel the cold any more, it was more that he actually felt like he was radiating cold out into the truck, not the other way round. It was hard, his body didn't want to cooperate and the movements of the truck, even if not currently erratic, didn't help but he finally managed to return to his spot against the wall and the roller. Pulling his legs up to his chest he tucked his head back down. Logically the air he was breathing out was still warmer than that he was breathing in, if he could recycle that warmth a little it could only help him hold out a little longer.

One last thought before he drifted again, at least the men hadn't stopped to question how they'd come to be located and pursued.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Numb3rs: Chill**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

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**CHAPTER THREE**

Not much time passed before the movements of the truck once again became erratic. The truck accelerated before braking heavily and turning. Again Don found himself being flung across the back of the truck, the violent movement serving to bring him back out of the stupor he'd allowed himself to sink into. Thoughts even more sluggish than before it took another turn before he was able to organise himself enough to brace himself. There was more than one siren this time, the discordant wails making it hard to determine exactly how many units were in pursuit but more than two was a safe bet. A sudden bright sliver of light flashed along the bottom of the roller door and he realised that a helicopter must also be tracking them, the light whiter than the average cruiser's headlights.

Some more turns and then he was flung forward as the truck braked heavily and came to a stop. As before, Don got himself back up and managed to eventually make it to the roller where he could take his place leaning an ear against the metal to better hear what was happening outside. It was a case of leaning until he stopped, he no longer had any feeling in his extremities or skin, everything was numb. Currently in a break between bouts of violent shivering he pulled himself back up into a ball and concentrated what was left of his mind power on listening.

This time there was gunfire, coming to him as sharp pops. The exchange stopped only to resume again. There was some shouting as well but he couldn't make out the words over the sounds of more sirens closing in. His hopes rose, it seemed that the truck was surrounded and becoming more so by the minute, the ride was over. As if hearing his thoughts the gunplay stopped and he could now hear instructions being shouted.

"Throw out your weapons!"

"Driver, toss out the keys." A pause. "Driver, open the door using the handle on the outside and step out. Walk backwards to the sound of my voice."

A longish pause and then quicker instructions were issued twice more.

It finally dawned on Don that he needed to draw attention to himself, there should be enough officers outside that someone could be spared to attend to him while the others secured the offenders. Summoning what was left of his strength he got an arm moving and made contact with the roller causing a satisfying bang. He struck again and then a third time before hearing the response.

"Agent Eppes!" A voice called as he heard the latch rattle. "Damn, they got it padlocked. Get the key off them."

There was a pause and then a different voice commented. "They must have been on the truck keys that they tossed. I'll find them."

The first voice countermanded that. "No time. Does anyone have a master key?"

It took Don about as long as it took the officer to arrive with the master key to remember the term was police jargon for bolt-cutters. A rattle and then a metallic pop as the lock was cut. The roller slid up to stop at the top of its track with a bang. Pressed against the door Don almost fell out as the support vanished. It was only the quick reaction of a man in a suit that held him in place.

"He's frozen. Get him out." A sheriff's deputy called.

The man in the suit that Don figured for an agent shook his head as he adjusted his grip slightly to keep him in the truck. "No. We move him we could kill him."

Not happy with staying in the truck Don tried to add his own argument. "Out." But the word was more of a gargle than anything else.

The man looked up at him. "It's alright, Agent Eppes. I know what I'm doing." He turned away for a moment. "Anyone got a blanket?"

More than one voice responded. A blanket was pretty much standard equipment carried in most law enforcement vehicles.

"Bring them all. How long for the EMTs?"

"Not long, Agent." A deputy responded.

A deputy quickly approached with a stack of folded blankets. "These do?"

"Yeah. Toss them up then give me a hand with him."

The blankets landed in a heap beside him. The deputy then took the other agent's place supporting Don as the other man climbed up. With a little bit of manoeuvring Don was pulled back away from the edge, deeper into the truck where he was no longer in danger of falling out. He protested but his mumbles and gargles were ignored. The blankets were shaken out and he found himself cocooned. A violent shiver ran through him, it had been some time since the last one and he figured it must have been a reaction to the pending warmth. A moment after that he realised that he wasn't feeling any warmth from the blankets, they were doing nothing. He didn't consider that they were actually there to insulate him from the comparative blast furnace that was the warm California night. Final adjustments made the agent finally introduced himself.

"I'm Agent Jack Donaldson. My partner over there is Agent Cheryl Taylor."

Don looked over and saw a female agent moving amongst the uniformed deputies.

Donaldson continued, "We've got three in custody and one didn't make it. Your report said four men, we have all of them?"

Remembering that the ability to speak had abandoned him he managed a jerky nod that seemed to satisfy Donaldson. He then realised that it wasn't just Donaldson in the truck with him as he heard a bag of ice shift and fall. Turning as best he could he caught a glimpse of a deputy shifting the load in a search for the cargo that was valuable enough for the men to have kidnapped a federal agent. This time he tried to speak but all he managed was an unintelligible sound with a vague 'D' sound at the beginning. Donaldson leaned in so Don tried again only to see the man pull back and shake his head. His growl of frustration came through clearly enough.

"It's alright. We'll find it." Donaldson reassured. "Don't try to talk."

That only frustrated him more. Envisioning the ice being allowed to melt he knew that the diamonds would be practically invisible amongst the sodden plastic bags that would remain. He could then see apparently empty bags being thrown away, as he doubted that the men would confess to what they were trying to smuggle. Another growl escaped him as he wondered how he was going to get the message across when he couldn't talk and there was no way he was able to write a note. That would involve using hands he couldn't even feel let alone expect to hold a pen.

Don was saved from having to think of something when a woman's voice called out to Agent Donaldson. Don looked up to see the Sheriff striding up to the back of the truck.

"Agent, we found this on one of them." The woman announced, holding up a small clipseal bag.

The other agent took the bag and held it up to the light of a cruiser's headlights. Don saw the rainbow flash and understood that they had found the diamond that One had appropriated.

Donaldson held the bag a little closer. "This what you were trying to tell me?" He continued at the other agent's nod. "Frozen in the ice, right?"

Another nod.

"Alright, when the EMTs get here we'll shut it back up to stop it all melting. Looks to be quite a haul." Donaldson continued. He handed the bag back to the Sheriff to be inventoried with everything else. Turning back to Don with a smile he added, "I'd say good work but somehow I don't think you're feeling that just at the moment."

He didn't feel his face move but Donaldson's broke into a grin so he figured he must have managed some sort of reaction to the amused comment.

The newest siren approaching the scene suddenly cut out and he looked up to see the bulk of an ambulance making its way through the haphazardly parked cruisers. A deputy buttonholed one of the EMTs the moment they pulled up and he saw the woman glance up at the truck and understand the situation. Less than a minute later the two paramedics were wheeling over a gurney.

"FBI." Donaldson said by way of greeting. "Agent Eppes here was trapped in this freezer for over an hour."

"Got it." The woman reached beneath the blanket to touch the side of his face with the back of her hand. "Agent, can you say your name for me?"

Don tried but it came out as a jumble just as he expected.

The woman nodded. She moved a bit closer and managed to get a stethoscope against his upper chest. Normally the equipment was cold but today he didn't feel the contact. After listening a moment she pulled back, announcing a number to her partner. "Shivering?"

"Off and on." Donaldson supplied. "Actually, more off than on."

"Moderate to severe hypothermia." The EMT diagnosed. She nodded at her partner who moved up having readied the gurney. "We'll need a few hands to help move him."

Donaldson responded by calling over a couple of deputies. One of them jumped up into the back of the truck while the other got into place below.

"You'll be okay Agent, but you're going to have to let us do all the work here, okay?"

That was fine by him, balled up and wrapped in the blankets he wasn't really able to move much anyway. Between the five of them he was soon lifted down from the truck and found himself sitting in the same pose on the gurney. They rolled him back and the blankets were pulled away as they slowly straightened his limbs until he was lying flat. Working quickly now he was in position a couple of sensors were attached to his chest and he was then covered by a silver blanket that was tucked in around him. The other blankets went back over the top. A violent shiver struck just as they finished and he crinkled. For some reason he found that funny and he half snorted.

The woman looked back at him, an answering smile on her face as they started to wheel him over to their vehicle. "First time done up as a roast, Agent?"

His nod wasn't missed even as they loaded him up. The idea appealed to him about then and he found himself remembering fondly the waves of warmth that would come out of the oven whenever his father made a roast.

There was a minute or so of fussing as she set up the various pieces of equipment and ensured he was securely strapped in. The other EMT had climbed up into the cab and Don could hear him talking on their comms giving details of their patient and his case.

"Town, Sandra." The man announced.

"Okay, Agent. We've got a bit of a drive ahead of us now, we're going to take you back down to LA rather than the local hospital." The woman now identified as Sandra explained. She picked up a headset. "I'm going to be on the phone a bit so just relax, okay?"

Don gave another nod, relaxing was something he could do.

By the time they reached the hospital he was struggling to stay awake and still felt frozen to the core. But he seemed to have reached some sort of equilibrium, he wasn't getting any colder even if he wasn't getting any warmer. His head had been wrapped with enough bandages that he was sure it amounted to a turban. The same had been done to his hands and feet. He'd never realised just how many bandages an ambulance carried.

The hustle and bustle that followed his being wheeled into the hospital soon put paid to any drowsiness that he was feeling. A doctor saw him almost immediately and then he was surrounded by nurses who stripped off his clothes before shoving warm packs under his arms and at his groin, swapping packs out every few minutes. He tried hard not to think too much about the thermometer they were using to check his body temperature. The doctor and other nurses worked at his hands, feet and head. Finally, many hours later, he started to feel warmer, which was to say cold rather than frozen. After a final check by the doctor, his extremities were re-wrapped and he was taken up to a room. More comfortable now that the thermometer had been removed and the nurses had returned to the more commonly used device to check his body temperature.

"Alright, Agent." The final nurse said once he was settled. "No moving around, call us if you want anything, anything at all."

He gave the nurse a look, wondering just how he was supposed to press a call button with his thumb when he couldn't even find the digit in the balls of gauze around his hands. He shouldn't have worried, the nurse dug into a cupboard mounted in the wall and pulled out a large pad sized device. She held it up showing a large button mounted in its face before swapping it for the much smaller call button. It was placed beside his right arm.

"Just press on this. We'll be in every ten, but don't wait if you want something." She explained. A final once over to be sure everything was in order she added, "Do you feel up to visitors?"

Expecting just his family he was a little surprised to find his team trailing them into the room. The agents hung back allowing him a reunion with his family first. He thought he heard a whispered comment along the lines of 'Princess Leia' followed by a quickly hushed snicker but wasn't quick enough to see who'd been so bold. He was quickly distracted.

"Hey, Donny," Alan started, his voice soft in worry. "How are you doing?"

"Better." He still sounded like he was a touch drunk as his mouth and tongue still found it hard to work properly but he was at least understandable. Shot full of painkillers the pain from his extremities was reduced to a dull ache to go with the rest of him. Sleep was something he needed now, almost as much as seeing his family. "Tired."

"They told us you needed rest. I'll stay for a while, but Charlie and Amita have classes to teach and I'm sure your agents have work they should be doing." Alan said with a glance behind him. His father then looked him up and down before meeting his eyes again, his tone a little lighter now he'd been able to satisfy himself that his son was okay. "Hypothermia?"

Don could feel his face now and felt his lips quirk up in a smile. "Crazy, huh?"

"So, I guess I was right." Charlie finally said, his voice a little dull. This was not the first time that his brother had been injured following up on data he had provided.

"Yeah." He bit back the addendum that they would have totally missed the shipment if they'd followed up in the morning, now, as planned. By now the diamonds could have been anywhere in or even out of the States. They would also have been trying to track drugs not precious stones unless their source had come through with more specific information. Instead he added, "Closed the case in record time."

David, followed by his team moved up now the conversation had moved to work matters. "We're on our way back to the office to finish the paperwork you left us, Don."

"Sounds fair, I did the work." Talking was coming a little easier now with practice and he managed another smile even as he suddenly shivered again. He still felt cold even though he knew he wasn't technically cold any more.

Nikki grinned, there was something she needed to point out. "And got frostbite in California in the middle of summer."

"Almost got frostbite." Don corrected. It wasn't all that 'almost', the rewarming of his extremities had been very slow and careful to reduce the damage that the exposure to the extreme chill of the truck had caused.

"I distinctly remember the doctor telling Alan something about frostbite." Colby chipped in.

Don looked from one to the other of his visitors, suddenly feeling ganged up on. Even Alan seemed to appreciate the lightening of the mood.

"So, Charlie," David started. "What are the odds on Don getting frostbite in LA?"

Charlie backed up a pace, hands raised in surrender as he shook his head from side to side. "Not even going to touch that one."

"That bad?" Don demanded. He couldn't remember the last time Charlie didn't have some numbers ready. "Really?"

"Yep." Charlie admitted.

"Damn." This time it was a yawn that prompted a reaction.

Alan turned and started making 'shooing' motions. "Alright, the lot of you, out. The doctor said rest."

After a few more good natured jibes everyone except Alan left. He took up a spot in a chair and opened a book making it clear he was staying for a while. Appreciating the company Don let himself rest, his team could handle the wrap up of the case. He just wanted to feel warm again; something the doctor had advised would take a while.

END

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_**A/N:** A short fic, done and dusted, but once he is warmed up again I'll see what else I can do to him. Cheers!_

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